


Space (It's The Worst)

by raving_liberal



Series: Tony and Nebula's Wacky Space Adventures [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Crack and Angst, Darker Than The Previous Installment, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hence The Angst Part Of Crack and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Nebula Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Space Is The Worst, Squid People, Thanos is the Worst, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Weird Alien Species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 23:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15472848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: Just when Tony thought this whole space deal couldn't get worse, enter squid people.





	Space (It's The Worst)

**Author's Note:**

> A double-David edit on this one! Thanks to David C for the proofread and David of Oz for the edits!

The worst part about sailing around in space, trapped inside a tin can with the sole female member of the Blue Man Group, is the complete and utter lack of booze. After the Big Bird planet—a total wash as far as booze-producing planets go—Tony and Nebula’s Happy Funtime Misery Ship makes additional unsuccessful stops on a planet peopled by humanoid insects (or insectoid humans, depending on how one might define these things), one inhabited by perfectly spherical creatures with no facial features other than mouths, and one where everyone has glistening, tan, sexy beach bodies with giant fanged squids for heads. 

“This universe gave us Pepper,” Tony complains to Nebula, as he spreads sticky ointment over a ring of angry, red sucker marks around his wrist, compliments of an irate squid-headed merchant. “It gave us _Thor_ , for god’s sake. How is it we keep ending up on all the planets with the cannibalistic Big Birds and the squid-heads and the mandibles? Huh? When do we go to the planet of beautiful people?”

“You’re terrible at bartering,” Nebula says. 

“Hey, hey, excuse me, I wasn’t aware we were bartering,” Tony says. “You didn’t say we were bartering. What you _said_ was that nice man-eating squid lady owed you money.”

“You’re terrible at listening, too,” Nebula says.

“I’m great at listening,” Tony says. Nebula stares at him, and he clarifies, “when it’s important and directly relevant to me. I was paying attention. Blah blah squid lady owes you money so we can get back to Earth.”

“Idiot. I never said they owed me money.”

“Fine, a debt, all these people—creatures, space-things, beings, whatever—all of them seem to owe you a debt, yet somehow _nobody is paying us!_ ”

“Icgth’rrrug,” which Tony assumes is the squid person’s name, not Nebula clearing her throat, though both are probably equally likely, “didn’t pay their debt with money. They paid it with information.”

“Great! And what kind of information paid your debt, exactly?” Tony asks.

“I know where to next seek what we need,” Nebula answers. “Ready the vessel for departure.”

“And what is it we need? What could we possibly need next?” Tony demands. “I want to go to Earth. This shouldn’t be that hard. Earth. Big, blue, kinda full of humans.”

“Half full,” Nebula says under her breath. Tony ignores her, because if he doesn’t, he’ll be stuck on planet Squidwatch with no idea where to go next.

The next planet is, surprisingly, much better. No squid heads, no cannibals, just a cluttered hodgepodge of drab tents and booths piled high with all manner of electrical and mechanical parts. Tony recognizes a few of them as being of Earth origin, some from as far back as the ’70s and ’80s, but most look slick and alien, strange colors and unnatural shapes glinting in the blue light of the planet’s sun. 

Tony rubs his hands together gleefully. “Now this is more like it.”

“Touch nothing,” Nebula instructs. “I’ll be back.”

“No no no,” Tony says, grabbing Nebula by the arm. She wheels on him and shoves him backwards hard with a single hand to his chest. 

“I said touch _nothing_ ,” Nebula says. 

“You’re not leaving me alone with the ship,” Tony says. “This is the first actually promising-looking planet we’ve been to, so you’re not stalking off—it’s quite a walk, by the way, remind me to introduce you to a guy—and leaving me here with Apollo Seventeen-and-a-Half.”

“Fine,” Nebula says, turning and beginning to Winter Soldier–stalk away from the ship. Tony trips a little over his feet in the process of keeping up.

“Fine? Just fine? Just like that?” he asks. 

“Yes.”

“Well, okay, great! We’re fine! We’re walking through an alien bazarr, we’re on a mission to— what are we looking for here, exactly?” Tony asks.

“I said you could come,” Nebula says. “I didn’t say you could speak.”

“Unfortunately for you, that’s just part of the package. I’m here, I speak, that’s how it goes.”

“Speak less.”

“Or, and this is a big ‘or’ here, _orrrrr_ you could actually tell me something instead of acting like I’m just some little yappy dog,” Tony says. He stops in his tracks momentarily. “I’m Toto. You’re Dorothy, I’m Toto, and we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Less. I said speak _less_ ,” Nebula says.

“So what adventures await us on this lovely little planet?” Tony asks.

“Silence, preferably,” Nebula says.

“I was just wondering what other nostalgic moments from my youth that space could ruin for me. Let me guess, E.T. is really a serial killer,” Tony says. “Ewoks, they’re all pedophiles, right? Furry little pedos. Or rabies, they probably really all have a form of space rabies. Space rabies _and_ they’re kiddie-fiddlers, tell me I’m wrong.”

“I don’t even understand what you’re saying, but I assume you’re wrong,” Nebula says. 

“Hasty assumption there, Finding Dory. Ass out of you and me, and all that. I’m usually right about a lot of things. Comes with the genius territory.”

Nebula does one of her disconcerting robotic head-turns towards Tony while the rest of her body keeps walking forward. “We are clearly out of your territory.”

“Why are we walking so fast?” Tony asks.

“The faster we walk, the less I hear you.”

“I think you walk fast because it keeps you from dwelling. You strike me as a girl who really hates to dwell. You hate it, don’t you? Dwelling on things. _Feeling_ things.”

“I will gladly feel the back of your skull with my fist,” Nebula says.

“Ouch,” Tony says.

“Yes, that’s the point,” Nebula says. “My fist will travel through your face and brain and strike the back of your skull from the inside. It will be very painful.”

“Has anybody ever told you that you’re mean?” Tony asks.

“My sister, when we were children,” Nebula says.

“She’s a good judge of character, your sister.”

“She was a sentimental fool and now she’s dead.”

“Theoretically. She could still be alive.”

Nebula stops fully and glares at Tony. “No, she couldn’t. And you, going on and on about your Pepper and your planet. Have you considered that your friends on Titan were not the only ones you lost to Thanos? Perhaps you are returning home to nothing. Everyone you know, everyone you ever loved, could be dead right now. You are alone. Just like me.”

“I changed my mind,” Tony says. “You’re delightful. Let’s finish your business.” 

Tony stops talking for the remainder of their walk and the subsequent meeting with a fairly human-looking, (and thankfully) tentacle-free shopkeeper. After a brief exchange between Nebula and the shopkeeper, the shopkeeper hands Nebula something small that she immediately tucks into a pocket Tony didn’t even realize her purple leggings had. Nebula then leaves the shop without looking to see if Tony is following her—he is—and stalks off in the opposite direction of the one they took to reach the shop.

“We aren’t going back to the ship?” Tony can’t resist asking.

“We’re going to _a_ ship,” Nebula says. 

“Is that what happened back there?” Tony asks. “You bought us a ship?”

“Bought? No. Acquired.” Nebula pulls the small item from her pocket. It looks like an electronic key fob, with several small buttons on it. Nebula clicks on, and a sleek ship the size of a blue water sailboat rises up from behind the rows of merchant stalls. 

“That’s the ship?”

“Yes. That’s the ship.”

“Now _that_ is more my style,” Tony says. “Excellent. So, where to next? The planet the dolphins came from? So long and thanks for all the fish.”

“What?”

“Douglas Adams?” Tony says. Nebula looks back at him blankly, one of her two default expressions, the other being seething rage. “Nothing?” Nebula keeps staring without answering, so Tony finally says, “Sorry. Where are we going now?”

“Terra. Earth.”

Tony lets out a surprised breath, feeling his shoulders drop. “Really?”

“I’m tired of traveling with you. If I take you to your planet, I can leave you there, and I can resume my plan to find and kill Thanos.”

“Kid, you get me back to Earth, and _if_ any of my people are left, they’re gonna help you do just that.”


End file.
